


Suffering Spectacles

by meiliariotz



Series: Bloody Candies [1]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Carnival, Creepypasta, Dark, Death, Horror, Memory Loss, Multi, Pain, Possessive Behavior, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiliariotz/pseuds/meiliariotz
Summary: You are being held captive in an inescapable carnival by a clown with a taste for blood and candy. Each day is another test of your willpower as he finds new and twisted ways to push your mind to the breaking point.
Relationships: Laughing Jack/Reader
Series: Bloody Candies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967443
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Suffering Spectacles

Sometimes you longed to be like the carnival guests. They would wander grounds, their eyes dead and their skin as grey as ash. Dead and grey, just like the rest of this place. 

You were envious of the way they lacked emotion. Once they may have been people with a will to live, but that part of them was long gone, confiscated by whatever power the clown held over this little pocket dimension. It was surely a miserable existence, but at least they weren’t scared. They felt no fear when they were slaughtered on a whim. 

You, on the other hand, were different. The clown made sure of that. He had fixated on you. You remained just self aware enough to notice when your memories began to slip away. It was little things at first. You couldn’t remember how you arrived here in the first place, then you began to lose track of how many days you had been held captive. You broke down one day when you realized you could no longer remember your address, your hometown, or even the faces of your closest friends.

Jack seemed to revel in your despair. That was the clown’s name. Laughing Jack. It was a fitting name, given the glee he displayed whenever he slaughtered the brain dead guests, often forcing you to watch the bloody carnage. 

With every passing day you grew more desensitized to the gore. When you first arrived you could be reduced to tears by the slightest acts of violence. Now you barely cringed when Jack would slit the guests’ throats right in front of you.

It was obvious he was playing with you, delighting in your horrified responses. Deep down you knew that when you no longer reacted, he would get bored. He would dispose of you. You needed to escape before that happened.

Unfortunately today would offer no opportunities for that. You sat in a circus tent, legs crossed and hands tied behind your back, binding you to one of the wooden posts used to hold up the structure. 

Laughing Jack’s attitude towards you seemed to rapidly switch between dismissive and possessive, and today was one of his possessive days, hence your bound state. 

“Can’t have you running away now, dearest, I’ve prepared quite the show for you,” He said, before practically bouncing out of the tent. His giddiness was a sharp contrast to the dark and damp atmosphere of the tent. 

Had you been a bit braver you may have replied with some witty retort. Where did he even expect you to run to? It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to flee the carnival before. You always ended up back where you started, as if you had run in a circle… or Jack would catch you, and the consequences would vary depending on his mood. 

You didn’t know how long you had been bound when he finally returned. Time moved strangely in the carnival. He came back dragging two bodies behind him, a man and a woman. His strength was surprising and terrifying, especially when juxtaposed with his skeletal, rag-doll like figure. 

The man and woman were blindfolded and bound. You immediately realized they weren’t carnival guests. Their skin hadn’t gone grey, they still had a sense of free will about them, and most telling of all, they were struggling. The guests never struggled. They knew there was no point in doing so.

This was new, and it filled you with a crushing sense of dread. 

“Aw sweetheart, let's turn that frown upside down! The show hasn’t even started yet!” Jack said, leaning down and taking your chin in his clawed hand, forcing you to look up at him. With exaggerated motions, he snapped his fingers, reached behind your head and retrieved a scalpel from thin air. It was a sadistic perversion of a magician pulling a coin out of a volunteer’s ear. 

Laughing Jack turned his focus to the captives again. He cut the woman’s blindfold off, assuring that she would see every moment of her torture. Your dread turned to horror as he made a deep cut along her upper arm. This was nothing like the violence carnival guests endured. For one thing, the guests didn’t scream, but the woman Jack was currently torturing shrieked loud enough to wake the dead. 

The man began thrashing his head from side to side, desperately trying to shake off the blindfold and shouting something to the woman. It was mostly incomprehensible, but you managed to make sense of one sentence,

“Leave my wife alone!”

They were a married couple. You wanted to look away, but you feared what Jack would do if you did, so instead you tried to distract yourself. 

You tried to think of your family. Memories of them were some of the few things you made an effort to keep fresh in your mind. You thought of your mother making your favorite foods. You thought of your dad preparing his favorite cup of coffee in the morning, concentrating on the smell of the roast and creamer. Every detail was precious when it came to these recollections. 

However, getting a firm grasp on such details was proving difficult. Usually when you thought of your family you were alone. You took the rare moments of quiet you could get in the carnival to close your eyes and concentrate on these memories. You used the silence to your advantage in order to build up the scenes with precision. 

This was much different. You couldn’t close your eyes, or else Jack would realize you were missing his bloody “show,” and the screams of the couple shook you to your core and caused you to lose focus.

When Laughing Jack killed a guest you tended to see them as objects, completely unaware of what was going on around them, and this helped keep calm. Jack must have realized this after the third or fourth time you reacted to a guest’s death with only a small gasp. He had clearly captured these people from somewhere outside his carnival realm because he knew you were desensitized to the guests being killed. 

You tried once again to think of your family, shifting your focus from your parents to your siblings. Your siblings… did you have siblings?

Panic washed over you like icy cold water. You began to shiver slightly as you realized you couldn’t remember. 

You began breathing rapidly and it drew Jack’s attention. He looked over his shoulder and grinned. He was still holding the scalpel, now slick with blood. He was standing in front of the woman, blocking your view. With a flourish he stepped out of the way and you gasped. 

The woman’s body had become a bloody canvas. Intricate cuts lined her flesh, curving and intersecting like an abstract art piece. Tears pricked at your eyes and you were coming dangerously close to hyperventilating. Your brain was struggling to comprehend the sick, yet morbidly beautiful vision that the clown had created. Jack smirked, clearly proud of the reaction he had drawn from you.

After a few eternal moments the meticulously carved patterns began to disappear behind rivulets of crimson. The woman herself no longer had the energy to scream, most likely from the heavy blood loss. She wept pathetically, her breath hitching every so often when her salty tears dropped onto the open wounds.

Jack stepped away from the woman and turned his focus onto the man, still blindfolded and screaming desperately. He threw the scalpel to the ground. You shook as traced a finger across the man’s face in an oddly gentle gesture. 

With your memories of your family rapidly fading, you found yourself fixated on Jack’s movements. He dragged a claw across the man's chest, tearing his shirt and leaving a red welt, but still being careful not to break the skin, yet. He was building up anticipation. He was teasing you. 

You weren’t ready to give up just yet. Since you couldn’t remember your siblings, you instead tried to visualize your parents. You tried to imagine their eye color, their hair, and other little details. Which one did you resemble more? Which one was taller? 

It was all in vain. The more questions you asked yourself, the more you came up with nothing. You were forgetting more by the minute. 

You didn’t know when you started crying. Perhaps it was when you were trying to remember your stents cooking breakfast in the morning, only to realize that the sizzling and popping of the bacon that you thought you remembered was actually the snapping of the man’s joints as Jack tortured him. 

Tears ran freely down your cheeks. Any semblance of a brave face you might have had disintegrated. You sobbed as you watched the light finally fade from the woman’s eyes. Her skin was slick and dyed a glossy crimson with her own blood. 

The man would soon follow. He was shaking in his bonds. Several of his limbs were bent awkwardly, clearly broken. Of course, Laughing Jack would never let his victims die from shock. Oh no, that was far too merciful for the likes of him. He was meticulous, always being careful to let the poor souls that fell into his grasp feel every moment of agony until he finally put an end to them. 

“Well, my brave volunteer, I’m afraid our little show must come to an end,” Jack whispered to the man, who responded with only a sob of pain. You watched Jack as he took hold of the man’s hair, pulling his head upward and grasping it tightly with both clawed hands. 

“But thanks to you and your darling wife, it was one of my best yet, a real head turner!” Jack said, raising his voice and punctuating his statement with a swift snap of the man’s neck. 

Finally, you could look away. Hoarse sobs racked your body as you stared at the ground. You barely noticed when Jack made his way behind you, cutting you free of the rope that had begun to dig into your wrists, rubbing them raw and dry. 

You fell forward the moment you were free, too sapped of energy to do anything more than cry. The clown scooped you up into his arms, quietly shushing you. 

“Oh dearest, it’s alright,” he said, taking on a much softer tone. It contrasted harshly with his raspy voice. 

“I know my performances can move people to tears, but you simply must get a hold of yourself,” he said. 

You did your best to do just that. The last thing you wanted was to insult him with a negative reaction. He could get angry, and if he got angry, it could lead to another “performance.” 

Breathing deeply, you buried your face in the feathered shoulders of Jack’s costume. It was strange. The rest of the carnival smelled of old cooking grease and spoiled fairground food. The tent you were currently in smelled of dust and now also gave off the metallic scent of fresh blood. Despite all this, Jack, even after a kill, always smelled of sweets. 

In some strange, and almost sickening way, you found comfort in that sweetness. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the candy shop scent envelope you. Your tears ceased their flow, but you could still feel them pricking at the back of your eyelids, threatening to pour out once again if you weren’t careful. 

You opened your eyes for a moment, only to see a wicked smile spread across Laughing Jack’s black painted lips. The fact that you were taking comfort in his presence was clearly giving him some kind of sadistic pleasure, especially after he nearly drove you to the breaking point in the first place. 

You tried to shrink away from his sharp toothed grin, but his grip tightened around you and your body instinctively relaxed into his arms. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you were too drained to fight. Besides, there was no way you’d be able to escape from his constrictive hold, even at full strength.

Instead you closed your eyes. Exhaustion was rapidly overtaking you, and fighting it would be a fruitless endeavor, just as fruitless as any attempt to escape this circus of hell would be. Jack had won tonight, planting the seeds of hopelessness deeper within you. He was one step closer to breaking you, but you didn’t care. 

You were too tired to care as you leaned into the clown’s lanky frame. There was nothing left to do at this moment but to surrender and allow the saccharine aroma of confectionaries lull you to sleep in the arms of your tormentor. 


End file.
